


What Happens if you Re-Upload Unus Annus?

by Calicornia



Series: The Anus [1]
Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicornia/pseuds/Calicornia
Summary: Markiplier pursues legal action.
Series: The Anus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073642
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	What Happens if you Re-Upload Unus Annus?

Komaeda sat at his computer, scortolini exposed, he was about to reuse the Unus Annus videos. 

“Unus…. Annus…” Hajime chanted quietly to himself. He was still in denial, and not the river. 

Tiny Hajime’s slip’n’slided in a large hour glass. It was his Hajime Rebirth, the only rebirth in France. It was his time to Hajime.

Unus Annus was not over, but only in France, but France was closed for business until TwentyNotHomophobia. The homophobes were running in fear, they knew the pride parade was coming back, and in full force. Unus. Annus. Komaeda uploaded another video.

But something was wrong. The youtube quaked. The browser caked. Random artificial anuses began littering the screen.

“Hello everybody, my name is PISSED THE FUCK OFF-iplier!” Markiplier arose from the pumpkin patch, he could smell the reuploaded Unnus Anus video from a mile away.

It was a race against time, and time was not on Komaeda’s side. The Hajime’s cowered in fear. They could feel the spirals spiraling out of control. 

It was an Uzumaki, and not the Naruto kind. 

Markiplier spun the world around, it was his world after all. He needed to find Komaeda’s exact coordinates, but what he didn’t know is what Komaeda had in his pocket. His lucky charm.

Komaeda pulled an entire box of lucky charms out his pocket and unleashed his secret weapon. 

“TOP OF THE MORNIN TO YA LADDIES” echoed throughout the halls of both the artificial coochie dungeon and the coochie dungeon proper, but Guy Sensei could not hear it over the clapping of his plentiful hoes. They were doing the chacha slide. 

The tiny jacksecpticeyes surrounded the white-nette, blocking him from view. Only 96 videos to go.

“SNAJIME MY BOYS, SNAJIME!” Komaeda cackled as the tiny Jacksepticeyes deflected Markiplier’s beams, “Snajime till that ass can’t shake!”

Markipler wasn’t pleased, the coochie had been defiled. He was going to have to take direct action. He closed his eyes and prayed, prayed for someone to help him.

Down from the heavens came him, the boy chin wonder.

The crimson chin himself descended upon the scene, and on his back was the only man capable of saving the day. 

The spandex man turned around to reveal the man the myth and legend himself. Eef “The Queef” Nestor.

“Ethan, I need your help.” Markiplier grabbed his son in his giant paw and held him like a soda can, “Some hooligan is reuploading Unus Annus.”

His son nodded his head in agreement, this hooligan must be stopped! Ethan sucked in a bunch of air, and grew wings. Not bird wings, plane wings. He poised himself to aim directly for Komaeda’s gamer set up.

It was time to Hajime.

“Ya ready papa bear?” Ethan called, revving his engines. They weren’t his.

Mark hopped onto Ethan’s back, nearly snapping the ex-gymnast in two, but Ethan’s new found plane strength kept him sturdy. He did a squat and proceeded to do three backflips in succession before leaping into the air, making plane noises all the while. 

It was the past now. Ethan was on his first day of ‘Turning Into a Plane School’, the only gymnastics school in France. His body became metal, just like a plane, but there was a fatal error. Hundreds of mice passangers that he was supposed to bring to Mouse France never made it to their destination that day.

Because they never left the plane.

And Komaeda?

He could smell those mice from a light year away.

Komaeda had not cum in one year, and that heightened his senses to immeasurable lengths. He could physically see the smells of Ethan's plane mice, and he was ready. For what? Tune in next week to find out. 

The whitenette pulled out a block of cheese, Swiss kind, but French.

“HERE MOUSEY MOUSEY MOUSEY!” He shouted as he chucked the cheese 50 feet in the air, and left of Markiplier. Suddenly, the mice inside of Ethan changed the course of his plane body to move away, to go to their true destination of Mouse France.

Markiplier swore so hard that his entire channel was demonetized and then remonitized. Fake Mickey Mouse exited his clubhouse, the french one and manually flipped the monetization switch on and off, toying with his prey. 

“*insert iconic mouse laugh here* I’m about to end this mans whole career Sora” 

Sora, who was chained up by the hearts of friendship, darkness, light, and heart, screamed

“You’ll never get away with this!”

Mickey chuckled, and he cackled, and then he guffawed. All according to keiaku. That was, until his drywall broke and a pink haired, half naked man stood furious.

* * *

Anasui

* * *

The Extra-Texmentional portal had been opened and Anasui became the only Texan in France. 

“Now you listen here pardner, it’s French High Noon, and you know what that means,” Anasui took a sip from his hip flask through a bendy straw. Inside was piss. It wasn’t his. The Fake Texas Invasion had begun. 

Anasui placed three cards face down and opened up the country roads. 

“Time to go home, Mickey.”

Hundreds of Texans swarmed the mouse’s underground lair, the only underground lair in France. The mice inside Ethan’s plane could hear it, and decided to turn their course back to Komaeda.

“Hell yeah!” Markiplier shouted with glee, “Nagito Komaeda, your Youtube channel’s days are numbered!”

“BUT I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COUNT” Komaeda screamed as he uploaded the final video. His bandwidth groaned under the strain of 365 days worth of content. Hajime rocked back and forth, making a ticking noise. The jacksepticeyes all roared with delight, turning the entire room green. 

But Markiplier was on the scene. He leap from Ethan’s plane back and straight into the radioactive swarm of Irishmen.

He wiped his brow and sweat his rust, but not because he was a masochist or anything. He approached Komaeda, who was sitting in his 300 dollar gaming chair. The whitenette turned around and grinned.

“Hello, Markimoo.”

Markiplier stood stone faced, his brow was just wiped after all. He took a deep breath, and the words left effortlessly.

“Was getting caught part of your plan?”

“Of course.” Komaeda replied.

“Are you breathing in the chemicals?”

“Yes.” Komaeda took the sharpie out of his nose and handed it to Mark. “I need you to snajime my hajime”

“I shall not be doing that.” Markiplier tossed the sharpie away with a backhand, “I don’t snajime for those who reupload Unus Annus videos.”

Komaeda’s eyes turned to puppy eyes. French puppy eyes.

He took a second sharpie out, from where? You know ;). He removed the cap and placed the felt tip of the marker into his hair. He painted it red to fit right in.

The transformation had begun.

“The transformation has begun, Fishboi,” Komaeda cackled. The wallpaper began to peel, revealing Mark’s worst nightmare.

“No...it can’t be” Mark stammered, taking in his surroundings.

“Oh but it is,” Komaeda’s balls dropped three stories, and his voice along with them. They were now standing in the accursed office. The FNAF 1 office. 

Markiplier looked around in a frenzy, the fan was whirring, the doors were slurring, and the battery was running out. The whole pizzeria was off, almost as if it wasn’t a real pizzeria. Markiplier gasped as he saw the name of the establishment on his employee card.

Freddy Faziplier’s French Pizzeria, the Only French Pizzeria in France, Texas.

“You work for me now, Markimoo,” Komaeda chuckled. “My little cash cow.” 

But Komaeda made a grave mistake. He had forgotten to build an airport in the office, and a certain plane was coming in hot.

“WHAT IS UP MAH CRANKYCREW?!” The voice shook the walls, and knocked the tapeworms out of the ultra reused pizza. Fresh Pizza wasn’t in Komaeda’s budget. 

Ethan gongoozled his way through the only load bearing wall in the pizzeria and straight into Komaeda’s router. 

“MY WIFI” the 2014 Markiplier lookalike roared, running to his computer to check on the final upload. Ethan stood there, not knowing what the fuck was going on. Mark had not briefed him on today's video and he was full of fear. 

Hajime shook inside of his hourglass, the sand wasn’t falling anymore. Neither were the mice from the ceiling. The Fake Texan Invasion was finally over, but Unus Annus was. He slithered out of his glass prison, which was actually made out of his own cum, and approached the crying incel hunched over his computer.

“What’s wrong, Komaeda?” Hajime put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “Did you not cum today?”

Komaeda turned up tearfully, his no more tears shampoo clearly not working, and he uttered the words.

“Both the Unus and the Annus got my Youtube channel deleted.”

“Markiplier has done it again” Mark said, his head swelling with pride. Wrong move Markiplier, your neck can’t support all that weight. 

Mark tumbled ass over tits into the void that had opened up in the floor in front of him. Where did it come from? Where did it go? 

Just ask Cotton-eyed Joe. Just ask him. He knows. 

Guy Sensei’s Cotton-eyed hoes carried the big headed man into the forbidden temple located at the base of the Dick Cheese Mountains, singing an oompa loompa style song about his hubris. 

Ethan was still standing in the office. Slowly he turned toward the camera and opened his mouth.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” He shouted, but then he didn’t shout. He smiled once more and opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then opened it. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

“The anus is coming. It worked.”

Komaeda froze in his place. His tears froze too. Frozen 2. The Jacksepticeye's began to glitch out, turning red, then blue, then black, then white. The mori’s were memento’d. All the pieces were in place. 

Nobody knows when.

Nobody knows why.

But the anus?

It’s coming.


End file.
